


of surprises and discoveries

by MMonster



Series: To Learn to Be Human [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Androids, Exploration, F/M, Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Happy, Non-Penetrative Sex, Porn with Feelings, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smut, Synthezoid, penis - Freeform, sinthetic being learns about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MMonster/pseuds/MMonster
Summary: Though he is gifted with perfect memory, each and every second he has lived automatically analyzed and stored in his synthetic mind, Vision is somehow still not quite sure what it was that led him to this moment.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: To Learn to Be Human [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197062
Comments: 14
Kudos: 145





	of surprises and discoveries

Though he is gifted with perfect memory, each and every second he has lived automatically analyzed and stored in his synthetic mind, Vision is somehow still not quite sure what it was that led him to this moment. Rain petters the window pane, each drop creating a distinct sound that reminisces a particular kind of music. Wanda, lying beside him, watches the natural phenomena distractedly, fingers intertwined with his. Vision watches her, enthralled.

“I will have to go soon.” Her voice is low, regretful. Green eyes turn to his then, and Vision doesn’t shy away from the intimacy with which she studies him.

“When will you be able to meet again?” He leans down to plant a soft kiss to the hand he holds, a habit developed as they slowly discovered the many facets of feeling attained through physical contact. Just like a human, there are areas of Vision’s surface with higher acuity for tactile feedback. He has found that the feeling of Wanda’s skin is particularly delightful against his lips, though it generally is very pleasant.

“It’s hard to say.” She lets go of his hand to run the pads of her fingers over his face, softly following the patterns there. “Steve is always after a new mission. Usually, it takes Natasha putting her foot down for us to get a break.” Though her words relay an unpleasant situation, there’s a soft smile on her lips that speaks of fond exasperation.

Wanda’s fingers trace a path from the lines on his cheekbone, up towards where the stone is nestled in his forehead, a particularly sensitive spot. Vision supposes the word closest to how his body responds to this touch is a ‘shiver’. It makes him close his eyes for a moment, the better to savor this seemingly disproportional feedback to such timid contact.

“Will you let me know?” He asks then, and is surprised by how low his tone has gotten.

“Always.” Wanda whispers.

When he opens his eyes, she’s sitting up. Pearly-white teeth show to nibble on her lower lip and Vision is yet again startled by the rush of anticipation that goes through him at the sight. Experience has relayed enough data for him to recognize that as a sign that Wanda is likely to kiss him. She doesn’t disappoint. Somehow, though he was expecting it, Vision is caught by surprise. As a purely logical being, he would still feel comfortable with describing this experience as a small miracle each time it occurs. Both that Wanda is willingly acting on it and the fireworks of sensation it always awakens in him.

Her lips are soft and warm, her tongue smooth as it dances against his. It’s wet and occasionally messy and there’s absolutely no logical reason at all why it’s by far the greatest source of positive feedback Vision has ever gotten to experience. He’s grateful to whoever it was, be it Doctor Cho, Stark, or even Ultron, who deemed it appropriate to gift him with a body capable of appreciating the depth of feeling that Wanda’s touch can offer.

“When must you go?” He pulls back to ask, fearful of the answer but even more unwilling to be caught unaware by it.

“We have a couple of hours.” She quickly answers, and though she’s breathless, she leans forward to resume kissing as soon as the words are uttered.

When Wanda pulls him closer, hands on the back of his neck, Vision takes it as an opportunity to maneuver them into a more comfortable position. She yields to his touch easily, allowing herself to be carefully moved to sit over his thighs as he rests with his back to the headboard. He doesn’t need to breathe, yet he feels dizzy by the time she finally pulls back. Her chest moves up and down in a hypnotic rhythm of uneven breaths, the dark pupils of her eyes widened by the endorphins he knows are running through her veins, her cheeks are a shade of rosy that’s inexplicably alluring.

His brain, capable of running more operations at once than the best supercomputer ever before invented by humankind, stutters then into a single thought.

_Beautiful._

When Wanda smiles at him, both clearly pleased and somewhat shy, he knows she plucked the thought right out of his head. Or perhaps his eyes scream it loudly enough. Either way, to make sure she receives this simple, yet insurmountably important message, he says it to her.

“To my eyes, you’re the most beautiful sight there ever was, or will be.”

To his great reward, Wanda blushes so intensely that the soft shade of red spills from her face, down her neck, with the tips of her ears the most affected. He smiles, knowing among all the other feelings that clamor at him for something, the happiness he experiences is settled with simply being.

“You are beautiful, too.” She responds, sincerity clear in her words.

Though Vision isn’t sure if her use of the term ‘beautiful’ instead of ‘handsome’ is due to her lack of full understanding of the English language or just because she feels the word better describes how she sees him, it brings the simmering inside him to a full boil. Suddenly, sitting contentedly with her in his arms isn’t enough. He must touch her, every inch of skin she will allow him.

And she does. He runs crimson fingers over the soft skin of her neck, down her clavicle, and she closes her eyes in appreciation. She sighs, a vulnerable sound, when he presses his lips to the side of her neck. He slides his tongue on her skin and she moans in response, sending a pulse of something burning hot that he can’t quite identify down his spine. While Vision doesn’t eat and, therefore, has no use for taste buds, his sensors for smell coupled with the particular sensitiveness for pressure and texture on his tongue make for a heady combination of sensations.

Wanda smells sweet and earthy. Like a living being made of organic matter and everything good in the world. He can easily identify and catalog all the artificial scents that cling to her, soap, shampoo, creams, toothpaste, make-up, even the nail-polish she applied long enough ago that it’s chipping at the edges. But the scent natural to her, a result of the unpredictable combination of factors like her genes, diet, and hormonal constitution, eludes any definition. It’s simply, complexly, _good_. When he's near her, he makes sure to breathe simply to take it in.

Vision presses his teeth against her skin, overcome by a vestigial desire to consume whatever it is that smells so bewilderingly nice, and is rewarded by her shiver. She whispers his name, again and again, hands running over his skin and leaving heat in their wake. At this moment, he feels like an entirely different being. Alive in a way he never was before.

They have been tame in their explorations so far, however, and as much as the murky desire for more pulses inside of him, Vision has not yet discovered what that might entail. More importantly, he isn’t sure what Wanda wants it to be. He allows himself to be pulled away from her skin by soft hands cupping his face, which is then kissed all over, her lips ending their journey on his mouth. His fingers run down the hair that spills down her back, its texture slightly changed after the chemical alteration to its color.

“Vis.” Wanda groans. “Can we…would you like it if we did…more?” Her words are low and hesitant, both expectation and worry in her gaze.

“Yes.” He can’t answer fast enough, smiling as relief washes over him at the assurance that she feels a need similar to his own. “May I?” His fingers slide to the rim of her dress, rubbing the cotton cloth, its texture dry and soft.

Wanda nods, pulling back to allow him to divest her of the cloth. Her eyes shyly leave his for a moment, even though she isn’t completely nude, but soon return to watch his perusal of her. Vision allows his gaze to be followed by his touch, mindful of any indication that it’s unwanted, but overcome by the intensity it all carries. Her skin is warm and yielding, she’s softness and hard angles, pristine even though riddled by marks of a life lived.

His hands trace a path upwards, from her supple thighs to grip the bones on her hips. She has a scar there, on the right, so faded human eyes would miss it when not looking closely, more noticeable by touch because the texture of her skin is interrupted. She sucks in a trembling breath when he runs curious fingers over her lower belly, pressing against it slightly, fascinated by how the flesh yields to him. The contrast between his crimson skin and hers is all the more striking against this protected expanse of flesh, mostly safe from the sun and the elements. He traces the circle of her belly-button, and, curious about the texture, dips his thumb carefully inside.

Wanda flinches minutely, but Vision is so attuned to her he could never have missed it. Quickly, he pulls back.

“I apologize.” He says, chastened.

“No, Vis, it’s okay. It’s just… not a usual place to touch.” She explains, out of breath.

“And what is, the usual place?” He inquires, eager to please her.

Wanda smiles and leans down to kiss him.

“Anywhere you want to, it’s okay. Some places are more sensitive, but even if my body reacts, it doesn’t mean I don’t like it.” She kisses the corner of his mouth, then down his neck. “But I want to touch you, too.”

When she pulls back to watch him with expectant eyes, he complies, allowing the facsimile of clothing he built over his natural frame to melt away with a thought. Unlike her, he’s completely nude under it, the intricate patterns of metal and artificial skin that make him exposed. Suddenly, afraid that he’s not to her liking, that she may find his form too inhuman or somehow displeasing, he begins to shift into his favored human disguise.

“Vis. No, what are you doing?” She interrupts him right as the shift begins.

Vision sputters for an explanation.

“I simply thought you would find a human appearance more… familiar?”

“You are more familiar to me than any human. I want you.” Is her categorical answer.

Vision stares at her, struggling to comprehend the feeling that arises from her words. Other than overwhelming and good, he can’t get very far. Filling it away for later examination, he unfreezes, allowing the human disguise to melt away like his clothing did, before. He sits and lets himself be gazed upon by warm, green eyes. Touched, by careful, human fingers. This, he knows what to call.

Vulnerability. Intimacy.

As if to reward him for his promptness, or to make sure he feels they are on even footing, Wanda unsnaps her bra, letting it fall to the side. Her last undergarment is taken off without much ceremony, she veers back against his legs so that she can bring hers closed enough to allow for the removal. Nude and blushing, but holding his eyes with her own, she sits up again. He can feel her core against his leg, warmer than the rest of her, and wet, which he knows to be a good sign.

Slowly, Wanda bends forward, then presses her lips against the plating on his chest, her tongue poking out to lick it. He shivers, closing his eyes, and understands now what she said about sensitiveness. He allows his temperature to rise enough that it’s slightly higher than hers, since it’s a cold evening and her exposed skin is pebbling. She doesn’t stop touching him, not even when he returns to his own exploration.

There’s some give to his surface, not as much as a human would have, but enough for him to be grateful to. He teaks his density to make it more so, wanting nothing more than to be soft and welcoming to her. He believes she doesn’t even notice when her hips begin to move against his thigh, rubbing herself on him, slick and smooth.

Vision has devoted a fair bit of thought to this, to Ultron’s motivations when he created him. A synthezoid, made of the combination of living cells and vibranium, crafted into a human mold and containing many tiny and big similarities to the beings Ultron despised so much that he planned to extinguish them. The memories he managed to download before he was stolen by the Avengers are partial, fragmented. The process was interrupted before whatever it was that made Ultron a sentient being could be shared. But what Vision has is enough.

The memory of green eyes studying him, wary but hopeful, wisps of red just fading. She and her brother, full of touches and glaring affection, a presence constantly reminding him of his otherness, of how distant Ultron was to anything resembling human. Yet, there was something covetous about the way he thought of Wanda, from the very beginning, as his. Not in the way a human man would, for Ultron wasn’t built like that. But if he chose to make his Vision considerably smaller than his final robotic form, softer and sensitive, if he chose to give him living tissue capable of emotional responses and overcome by humanity, it must have had something to do with her.

From even before he came to be, Vision was meant for Wanda.

She gasps, suddenly. Pulling back from him, she looks down his body at where, from one second to the next, the final puzzle piece made itself known. Vision is as surprised as she is, though he has always known he can alter his form, within parameters, to whatever he might wish, this wasn’t a change he consciously sought. He must have some form of subconscious, then, for among the operations he’s always running for the functioning of his body, he didn’t foresee this one.

“I-I didn’t do that.” He says, dumbly, staring at the turgid member between his legs that wasn’t there a minute ago. It’s seamlessly a part of him, the same skin tone, but its form is human. He can feel its weight and, now, its demands. It’s alien and, most strangely, not. Like the fact he hadn’t manifested yet didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

To his surprise, Wanda snorts inelegantly and starts giggling.

“What?” He asks, affronted and self-conscious. Try as he might, this change doesn’t seem to be as willful as all the other alterations he’s capable of making to his body. Vision glares at the appendage, but it refuses to go back to not-being.

“Sorry, sorry, Vis.” She apologizes, still lightly giggling. He glares at her, but she’s smiling, her expression soft and happy, and it takes the wind off of his sails immediately. “I didn’t know you could do that.” She smirks.

He sputters, faced with her mischievousness.

“Me neither.” Vision looks down again, now curious, even as he is still very much surprised. “I suppose it would be impractical to have it at all times. But the reason why it’s involuntary is beyond me.”

Wanda shrugs.

“It’s like that for human men. I guess… he wanted to feel human.” Vision knows, then, that she was aware of Ultron’s fascination with humanity, even if not his fascination with her. Her ability to read others goes far beyond her powers.

“I apologize.” Still embarrassed, Vision concentrates on making it go away.

“I’m not complaining.” She’s quick to reassure. “Hey, Vision.” She calls his attention then by holding his chin up, a request for him to look at her. “It’s okay, I have my own set.” Her weight settles a little more on him, as if to make her point. “I was just surprised. I guess we should have talked more about this, but… you always seemed to like what we do. And we can do a lot without, well, a penis.” She blushes. “But I definitely don’t mind one, either.”

Vision takes in an unnecessary breath and studies her expression. She’s earnest and a frown on her brow makes it clear she’s worried about him. However, if he’s honest, the strangest part of this isn’t the surprise, or even his lack of control. Wanda kisses his face reassuringly, and the change in the angle of her body results in her velvety thigh coming into contact with his very new body part, and he sucks in a startled breath. It’s definitely sensitive, and it’s such in a different way than the rest of him.

“That is, if you’re okay with this. Are you?” She pulls back to ask, hesitant.

A little strangled by the way her skin is still brushing against him, but very much willing now to discover the surprises his and her bodies can uncover, he nods.

“Yes, yes, Wanda.” He pulls her for a heated kiss, groaning under his breath at the way her body rests against his. The sensors on his surface light a map of pleasure, the center of which is between his legs, where her belly now presses against his member. She slides away from his mouth, leaving a trail of kisses on the side of his face. When she licks the plating over what would be ears on a human, his new cock throbs.

“How does it feel?” She whispers.

“I-I couldn’t describe it.” Vision grips her like a lifeline, hands splayed over her back. She rocks against him, purposefully this time, and the friction it causes is so pleasurable he can’t help the sounds he makes.

“But good?” Her voice is husky.

“Good, yes, very good.” Robbed of his wealth of vocabulary by the overloading of his senses, Vision flounders for words. Wanda’s wet core rubs against his thigh more firmly while she holds onto his shoulders, face against his neck, breath fast and moist on his skin.

Suddenly, he wonders what it will feel like to be inside of her, to press his new appendage against her warm, soft core and sink in. The thought itself strangles him with its intensity, knowing how impossibly good simply touching her skin feels, he can barely concentrate on the idea without being hopelessly overwhelmed.

“Wanda, Wanda.” He pleads to her, not knowing what for. Without his express permission, his own hips move against hers, ripping a mewl from her throat and increasing the stimulation to both of them. Even though her nails represent no threat to his vibranium surface, he keenly feels the way they worry at him, hands clenching on his shoulders.

Wanda pulls back, eyes closed, earnestly ridding his thigh now. Vision holds her hips, helping her move, and watches her. Her mouth opens, brow furrowing into an expression that with different context could be seen as pained. He knows it isn’t. She isn’t loud when she comes, but her every hitched breath, tiny, vulnerable moan is like a bomb to his senses. He can hear her heart working double to keep up with the rush in her blood, her thighs clenching rhythmically against his.

He pushes away the hair that sticks to the side of her face, marveling at the humidity of her sweat. As she comes down from her high, her body becomes pliant and relaxed, and she leans against him. He kisses the spots he can reach while she recovers.

“That was nice.” She says, as soon as she gets her breath back. “Did you come?”

His turgid member still throbs, caught between their bodies.

“I’m not sure I can. Not the way a human man would, at least.” Vision points out.

She nibbles on his neck, humming in acknowledgment.

“Do you want to find out?” A pale hand traces a path down his chest, her eyes on his, ready to stop if he so wishes.

“Yes, please.”

**Author's Note:**

> This took ages to write and I may have had a few small crises about Vision's penis. Yes, his penis. I didn't know if he had one and, if he did, how it was supposed to work. Hopefully, my version of it is, uh, alright. Let me know, people!


End file.
